Down With this Ship
by Osidiano
Summary: A collection of unconnected one-shots and drabbles for each of the ships in YGO! fandom as part of a ship challenge I did for a past NaNoWriMo. These stories take place at various times before, during, and after the anime. Updated with Frazzle, Fragile, and Barbecueships.
1. Fragile

Disclaimer/Note: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!, or any of the recognizable characters in these stories and drabbles. They belong to the series' creator, Kazuki Takahashi, and whoever he sold his soul to. I am not making any money from this, so please do not sue me. This was written solely for my own amusement and that of anyone choosing to read it. These stories take place throughout and after the end of the original Yu-Gi-Oh! series and may contain spoilers or be total crack, and are **unbeta'd**. This collection was done as part of a shipping challenge and past NaNoWriMo, in which I attempt to write fic for every ship in the series. Since it was harder than I thought it would be, I ended up combining it with a daily prompt challenge. Enjoy.

**Fragile****  
**Day/Theme: 31Aug10/The aesthetic of lostness  
Ship: Fragileshipping (Yami no Yuugi x Ryou Bakura)  
Rating: T

There was blood in the sink.

This was not a new or inherently concerning fact. Far more concerning was the fact that it was perfectly normal for there to be blood in the sink, for smeared red hand prints to be left on the white ceramic and streaked across the bathroom mirror. The ancient spirit reached out with practiced numbness, turning the facet on and watching as the water turned pink and swirled down towards the drain. He looked at his reflection in the mirror carefully, tilting his head to get an unmarred view of his profile as he surveyed the slight indentation a crease in the pillow had left on his host's cheek. Wetting his hands next, he splashed the water up to his face and rubbed the sleep grime from his eyes.

There was always blood in the sink these days. Or on the counter. Or the bedroom doorknob. The back wall of the closet had a rough patch from where he had tried to scrub a stain off but ended up taking the first layer of plaster with it late last week. It was always somewhere. He could smell it when he came home after working at the game store. It was always freshly spilt when he woke up in the mornings, still wet when he brushed his fingertips over the smears.

When had this become normal? The pharaoh glared down at the sink, as though it was the cause and source of the blood. When had 'these days' started being separate from all those other days they had lived through? Of course, he knew the answer to those riddles. Pinpointing the catalyst, that great and significant event which heralded this change, was a simple task, and always on his mind. When the Millennial Items were lost beneath the rubble of that fallen temple after his duel against his other self, these days - this long, drawn out nightmare - had begun. For a moment, they had all celebrated their victory over the endless cycle of reincarnation. For a moment, they had believed that they had won, had bested fate and destiny and reveled in all their victor's glory.

But it was only a matter of days before they realized that he had not been released from the Puzzle to rest in the afterlife, but rather, the two halves of his soul had finally been reunited. He looked back to his reflection. His host looked tired. They had not slept well since finding that it was becoming harder and harder for the other Yuugi - all the goodness his soul had ever possessed - to surface. Each day he saw less and less of the bright-eyed, optimistic boy that he had been reincarnated as in this time. The man in the reflection looked jaded and too old to have ever been that particular Yuugi.

One day, this would not be his host's body. It seemed odd to think that way, but in his heart, the pharaoh knew it to be true. He was consuming the other soul, taking Yuugi in and making them one. Isis had warned that such a thing might happen, that his darkness might drown out the true Yuugi's light. She had said that it might happen the other way, as well; that there was a chance that the Yuugi of this time would overcome the King of Games and rise as the dominant half of the soul they shared.

He cursed his strength more in that moment than he had ever before in all his incarnations combined.

Behind him, the shower curtain shifted.

The pharaoh shook himself from his bitter reverie, wiping his hand over his face one last time before turning slowly towards the shower. For a moment, there was silence between them, marred only by the light 'drip-drip-drip' from the faucet and the rustle of plastic as the shower curtain settled back into place. He strained his ears for a sound of life, for the ragged wheezing of a wounded man or the gentle inhalations of someone slumbering. His eyes scanned the bloodied curtain for more movement, the scrabbling of fingers on tiles, perhaps, or the last violent death throws of a cornered animal. He wanted something, anything, to assure him that there would be blood in the sink tomorrow.

For a moment, the pharaoh's expression softened, those same old worry lines knitting his brow as he took cautious steps towards where his companion was hiding. Sometimes, he thought that these moments were the worst part, somehow more horrifying to know that he was responsible for this other soul's painful reintegration. It would have been easier to wallow in his self-hatred and anguish if he had been the only one damned to this tragedy. His voice was strained when he spoke to the curtain:

''Ryou, are you feeling better?''

The curtain did not answer.


	2. Frazzled

**Frazzled****  
**Day/Theme: 21Aug10/Wild heart, child heart  
Ship: Frazzleshipping (Katsuya Jounouchi x Rebecca Hopkins)  
Rating: K+

They were sitting near the water in mirror poses; both blonds had drawn their knees up close to their chests and wrapped their arms around their legs. The boy had his cheek pressed against one knee as he looked out over the lake, watching the way the waves moved lazily across the surface. The young girl had her chin cradled in the small cleft of space between her own knees, using her periphery vision to glance at him from behind small spectacles.

Everyone else was either inside the fifth wheel sleeping or telling ghost stories around the camp fire, probably roasting marshmallows. Why anyone would want to recite tales of monsters chasing people after what they had seen and been through, though, was beyond even Rebecca's ability to rationalize.

She looked away from him then, casting her green gaze up to the stars.

Jounouchi was probably still thinking about that girl who had been working for Doom. He laughed and went fishing with Honda and her darling during the day, but when the sun went down, he always got quiet and wandered off to be alone, mumbling something that no one ever bothered to catch. Yuugi would just give him this soft, sadly understanding smile and let him be, and Anzu would frown and shake her head when the boys weren't looking. Rebecca wondered what it would have been like to be in their close-knit group; to know about everything that happened during Battle City, and to be able to speak to each other without saying anything. She hugged her knees to her more tightly.

"You should go back."

Rebecca looked back to Jounouchi with a start. "What? No, I don't. . ."

"Anzu'll make off with your 'darling' if you don't, y'know."

"No, she won't. Anzu doesn't like my darling; she likes the other one," she replied, wrinkling up her nose and pushing herself up to her feet. "But we should both go back. They're worried about you."

She held out her hand to help him up. For a moment, he just stared at it, as if not understanding. But then he took her hand and got up. He didn't let go of her right away.

"Jounouchi?" she said his name hesitantly, her eyes glued to where he still held her hand.

He leaned in and kissed her, out there by the lake with no one watching. It was probably just because he missed that other girl, Rebecca thought. It was because she was blonde, too. He probably thought he could get away with it.

She stomped her heel down on his bare toes as hard as she could. Jounouchi swore, loudly, before stumbling backwards, his arms flailing madly as he fell into the water.


	3. Tidal Currents

**Tidal Currents****  
**Day/Theme: 8Feb10/Knowing only departures, never returns  
Ship: Barbecueshipping (Hiroto Honda x Ryouta Kajiki)  
Rating: M

"We should go fishing while you're still stationed out here. When are you supposed to deploy again?"

"In about two weeks," Honda replied, cradling the cordless phone between ear and shoulder as he opened the fridge in search of another beer. The individual on the other end of the line was quiet for a long moment, perhaps looking over a nearby calendar or schedule book to pick out the best dates to plan such an excursion. Not that it really mattered to Honda; he had already taken most of the next week off as leave to get his affairs in order. The majority of his personal items were in storage or with his family back in Domino, leaving his barracks space looking empty and unfamiliar. He had not made any other plans, either. Aside from the man on the phone and the guys in his unit, he only knew two other people in Okinawa, one of which was still sleeping in the adjacent bedroom as he wandered around the unexplored apartment. "Are you thinking a day trip, or like camping out?"

"I can't take too much time off from work right now, sadly. . . Why don't we head out early Friday morning? We can get a full day in, and then head back sometime Saturday afternoon," the other suggested. Honda paused in his rummaging, pushing aside a few opaque containers that had been forgotten at the back of the fridge for God-only-knew how long and held either leftovers or some strange sentient life form that jiggled ominously when bumped. Even though Honda knew he would not find any bottles hidden back there, he figured that no harm would come from giving in to his scavenging compulsion. Truthfully, though, he was just looking for a way to keep his hands occupied; it helped to keep his mind off his headache and the nagging feeling that he did not really want to agree to go out sometime in the next two weeks. "Are you free this weekend?"

Honda did not actually _like_ fishing, although he loved to eat the results. Fishing was more or less a lot of sitting around doing nothing and being bored. If they made a big trip out of it, then that meant that they would be waiting for hours for the fish to bite, just shooting the breeze and talking shit. The only upside was that it meant they would probably drink the whole time, and be completely and pleasantly wasted by the time the sun dropped. And it would have been nice to see his friend before deploying, too. Honda moved the phone to his other ear, straightening and closing the door as he did so with his free hand. "Yeah, this weekend is fine. You have a place in mind?"

"I haven't taken you out on my boat yet, have I? It's small, but comfortable. You'll like it."

"Tell me this won't be like that time you tried to teach me harpoon-fishing," Honda pleaded, grimacing at the memory. "I still have a scar, Ryouta."

Kajiki just laughed. "I thought all you soldier-types were supposed to have good aim! You were the one bragging about how you used to be such a sharp-shooter—"

"Hey, I have great aim with _guns_, thanks!" he scoffed, smiling a little to himself as he wandered from the kitchen back to the messy living room. His shirt was still on the floor where it had been dropped the night before. He pushed it around on the carpet with one foot. "Besides, I doubt I'll ever need to stab anyone in my line of work."

"You work for the army."

"I fly _planes_ for the J.A.S.D.F. There's a difference."

"Huh. I suppose you don't see many harpoons, then. . ."

"Not really, no."

"Guess you should have joined the navy, huh?"

Honda rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head slightly. Kajiki was always making silly navy jokes, even though he never had any intention to serve. "_Anyway_. . . Are we meeting by the docks, then?"

"Yeah, let's meet at the marina out past Camp Kisner. You've still got that bike, right?"

"Until I deploy. Sachiko's borrowing it while I'm out of the country, though."

"Oh, right. Sachiko. . ." Kajiki trailed off, thoughtful for a moment. Honda raised a brow curiously, but before he could ask, his friend had spoken up again. "Where was it you said you were going?"

"I didn't. It's classified. Can't tell you."

"Bull shit! You just got out of flight school, Hiroto; they're not sending you anywhere interesting and we both know it. The Middle East?"

"Nah, we're relieving the NATO air security guys in Eastern Europe. We'll be stationed out of Katarashii Air Base."

"I have no idea where that is, you know."

"Southern Misgarth. So, yeah: nowhere interesting."

"Told you so. Well, ah, anyway. . ." Kajiki cleared his throat awkwardly, apparently out of meaningless topics to go over. Honda could imagine his friend on the other end, sitting in that old shack he used as the main office of his delivery business and shuffling through the myriad of receipts he kept in no particular semblance of order. Or maybe he was toying with his long black hair or adjusting his bandana for the millionth time. He had a tendency to fidget while looking for the right words. It was almost endearing at times, unless it was annoying. Right now it was neither. "Well, I guess I'll see you Friday?"

"By 'early,' did you mean around six?"

"I was thinking five, actually."

Honda groaned rubbing at the back of his neck. That was the problem with fishermen: they were never joking, and their idea of 'early' always meant the ass-crack of morning. "Ugh. Five it is. I'll bring the beer if you bring the fish. See ya then."

They hung up, and Honda deposited the phone back in its plastic cradle-charger on top of the entertainment center.

* * *

Honda arrived at the docks at five thirty-five that Friday morning. The air was crisp and cool, and it was still dark as night when he pulled into the brightly lit parking lot on his beat-up old motorcycle. He undid the chin strap on his helmet, rolling his neck a little to relieve the stiffness that had settled into the muscles where his head connected with the top of his spine. Although Naha Air Base and Camp Kisner were only eight miles apart, construction on the main road had forced him to take the long way, sending him all the way up to Sueyoshi Park before he could get back on track. The detour had more than doubled the length of his trip, and traffic had only exacerbated his tardiness. Not to mention his hangover-induced headache. Honda removed his helmet and riding gloves before swinging his leg up over the side of his bike and getting off.

The backpack he was wearing had a thirty-six can cube of beer, a change of swim trunks, and his deck of Duel Monster cards. He figured that was really all he would need for this trip. Kajiki was good at making sure that they ate, even if Honda did not catch anything. He knew from past experiences that he was safe in the assumption that his friend had packed a contingency plan and would share whatever ocean bounty he managed to pull into the boat. Honda rolled his shoulders under the weight of his backpack, inhaling deeply.

Beneath the strong, salty smell of the water was that odd wooden musk that still seemed so unfamiliar to him. Domino had a harbor, yes, but it was not the same. Naha was a real port city, was huge and bustling even in the early morning lull. Its harbor stretched out much farther and was far more prominent than Domino's had ever seemed. There were many boats anchored in the marina, and he could see at least twenty ships moving slowly along the horizon.

"Hey! You're late," Kajiki called out from where he had been crouched down next to some ropes and cleat ties farther down on one of the more empty piers, standing and waving with one hand as he hurried towards the brunet. His sandals slapped against the wood noisily. Honda grinned at the other young man, putting an arm around his broad shoulders once he was close enough. Kajiki returned the embrace, his own strong arms wrapping around Honda's abdomen and giving him a quick squeeze. "It's good to see you again, Hiroto."

"Yeah. . . you, too," he responded haltingly, his smile faltering as Kajiki released him. Even though they had spent more time together in the last two months than they had in the previous five years, Honda was still getting used to their friendship. Kajiki was all hard, smooth muscle and wild dark hair; his deeply tanned skin was warm where Honda accidentally brushed his fingers over the other man's exposed bicep. Normally, Honda did not mind such public displays of affection, but when he was with Kajiki it always seemed like someone was watching them. Staring, blatantly, and reminding him that they should be more discrete. Besides, Honda had only recently "come out of the closet," as it were, and having a touchy, handsome friend like Kajiki was distracting, to say the least. "So, where's this boat of yours?"

"This way. Come on!" Kajiki gestured back down the pier he had just come from, turning to lead the way. Honda followed dutifully behind him. His friend stopped in front of a small sailboat with a beaming grin, looking for all the world like an embarrassingly proud father showing off his child's latest achievements. "She's right here; this is my Tairyou."

"Did you carve that kanji into the side yourself?" Honda asked, frowning a little at the crooked way 'big' had been etched. Kajiki sneered.

"Oh, shut up and get in."

* * *

They dropped anchor a few miles off shore, Kajiki setting the fishing poles up in their respective holders on the starboard side of his small sailboat as Honda fetched them each a beer from the ice chest. Once that was done, the young men settled into their seats to wait for the fish to bite. As Honda had expected, they would shoot the breeze in the meantime. Kajiki toyed idly with the pop-tab of his can for a minute before coughing awkwardly and commenting:

"So. . . I'm surprised that Sachiko let you come out here without her. I mean, you're leaving soon, and I figured she'd want to spend as much time with you as possible."

"Huh?" Honda regarded his friend oddly over the rim of his drink. "What are you talking about?"

"Your girlfriend. Her name's Sachiko, isn't it?"

"Oh, no. No, no, no; you got it all wrong," Honda shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Sachiko and I are _related_. Her cousin is my brother-in-law."

"But I thought—" the darker young man began, but was quickly interrupted by further explanations.

"We're living together because I hate the barracks and she needed a cover."

"A what?" Kajiki wrinkled his nose up in confusion.

"She's dating one of the finance officers stationed at Naha," Honda went on, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the shore. "They'd be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out, so we just started a couple of rumors about the two of us and let them run wild."

"I didn't realize Sachiko was military, too," Kajiki murmured, looking away to check on the poles.

"She's not."

"Then why—"

"_Female_ finance officer."

"Ooooh, it all makes sense now," Kajiki smiled, nudging Honda as he went on to ask: "Is it weird?"

"What, living with a lesbian?"

"Yeah."

Honda just frowned. "Honestly? I thought it would be more exciting."

Kajiki laughed, leaning back in his seat again and taking a long drink.

"What about you, Ryouta? Where's your lady this weekend?"

"I, uh. . . I don't really have one." Honda raised a brow dubiously at the faltering way his friend had responded.

"What about that girl from the tea house?"

"No, I just make deliveries there. There's nothing between us."

"Huh. I figured she'd be your type."

"Why's that?" Kajiki asked as he finished his beer, getting up to get a new one. Honda looked out towards the horizon with a slight blush, feeling uncomfortable. He figured Kajiki liked little traditional women because it was about as close to the opposite of what he _wished _his friend's type was. It would have been nice, he thought, if it turned out that the other enjoyed the company of tall, lean young men, but he doubted his luck was that good. The goddess of luck did not like anyone that much, probably not even Jounouchi, and that moron had made a career out of being lucky. Honda emptied the remainder of his can in one big gulp, setting it down on the floor of the boat beside his feet. Kajiki returned, pressing another beer into Honda's hands.

"I dunno. You've never really talked about any girls you like, so I just figured they'd be. . . y'know. . ."

"Generic?"

"_Cute_. And familiar, you know? She sounded like she was from Osaka."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

". . . Aren't. . . I mean, aren't you from Osaka originally?" Honda rubbed at one arm self-consciously. He felt like this was something he should have known. Hadn't Kajiki mentioned it before? His friend gave him an even stranger look than before, frowning deeply and shaking his head.

"Hell no! I was born in Amagasaki."

"Oh please. They are _right next _to each other on a map," Honda reminded him, rolling his eyes. He pointed a finger accusingly at the darker young man. "You're still a Kansai boy."

"Everything is close! That's like saying you're from Chiba because it's _close _to Fukushima. I mean, I know Honshu is not that big an island, but it's still the wrong prefecture, dumbass: Amagasaki is in Hyogo."

"Look, geography aside. . ." Honda waited until Kajiki's grumbling had subsided. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing! She's just not my type."

"If you say so, man. . ." the brunet shrugged, redirecting his attention back to their fishing poles. The line was trembling, the bright red bobber dipping down beneath the waves before popping back up. "Hey, is that-"

"Looks like you got a bite—pull it in!" Kajiki set his drink down, unhooking a small net from the side of the boat and getting ready to catch the fish as soon as the other young man dragged it in. Honda grabbed his fishing pole with gusto, his face split by an enormous grin. He heaved back, grunting with exertion as he tried to reel in his catch; it was struggling valiantly, though. Just as he set his foot against the side-wall of the boat for added leverage, his line snapped, nearly sending him tumbling back into Kajiki. His friend just gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "That's just the way the ocean is sometimes. You'll get another one."

"Yeah. . . you up for a duel?"

"You _do _realize that I'm the reigning national champion right now, right?" Kajiki reminded him, nudging him with one elbow to the ribs. Honda just rolled his eyes.

"How could I forget? You bring it up almost every time we talk."

"It's a big deal!"

"Do you want a gold star, or something?" Honda asked, pulling his deck out of his backpack as he took a seat on the floor. Kajiki glared at him for a moment, but then huffed and followed suit. He knew that the taller young man only played mat games.

"I got plenty of gold stars in the Duelist Kingdom tournament, _thank you very much_," Kajiki grumbled, holding out his deck for Honda to take. "Now shut up and shuffle."

"You're so _bossy_. . ."

Two mat games, both of which the fisherman won, and one false alarm on Honda's fishing line later found the two young men sprawled across the bottom of the boat and picking shapes out of the clouds. The temperature had risen quickly once the sun began its arduous trek across the clear blue sky a few hours ago. After a moment of rummaging, Kajiki pulled a bottle of sunscreen out of the compartment under one of the seats. He turned to Honda expectantly.

"You'll burn if you don't put this on, you know," he warned. Honda rolled his eyes again. He had stripped out of his shirt already, and lay in just his swim trunks and sandals as he checked his fishing line for activity. Still nothing. It was looking like a slow day. "Light reflects off the water, and you have pretty fair skin anyway, so you'll be a lobster by mid-afternoon. And I am _not_ taking care of you if you get sun-poisoning or blisters."

"I never burn," Honda lied. Kajiki glared at him.

"Do I have to put this on you, or will you do it yourself?"

". . .If you get my back, I'll get yours," Honda replied after a moment's consideration. At the odd look he received from his friend, he quickly amended his previous comment by adding, "Dude, no homo."

"I know." He wished there had been even a hint of disappointment in that statement, but Kajiki's tone had been smooth and empty. Even though the conversation had long since ended, he kept wondering if he should have inquired more deeply into just what, exactly, his friend's type _was_. Honda suppressed the urge to sigh and sat up, scooting around so that his back was accessible. He could hear his friend moving towards him, sandals slapping against the floor of the boat, stopping to kneel right behind him. Heat rushed to his face, his heartbeat speeding up as he heard the bottle's lid pop, followed by the wet squelching sound of the lotion being squeezed out.

Kajiki's hands were cold and slick when they made contact with his shoulders, eliciting a small gasp from the brunet. The fisherman mumbled an apology as he smoothed the lotion over Honda's skin, rubbing it in. Honda tried not to squirm under his friend's hands. He felt stupid, like one of those blushing bimbos in some teenage romance flick. Kajiki's fingers slid down his spine, palms pressing into the small of his back briefly before sweeping out, brushing along his sides and moving back up towards his ribcage. Honda squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Kajiki to pull away, signaling that he was done.

"Okay, now you get me," his friend was saying, and Honda wanted to say something dirty, but managed to suppress the urge. He opened his eyes and turned around, taking the bottle of sunscreen that Kajiki offered to him. Honda squeezed a large glop of the cool lotion onto his hands, rubbed them together briefly to coat, and placed his hands on Kajiki's back.

The darker man tensed for a moment, but quickly relaxed to the feeling of Honda's hands sliding over his shoulders and along his spine. Honda relished the slickness of the other's skin, letting his mind wander lower than he could allow his fingers to go. It was a tease to brush that white substance over the small of Kajiki's back, just above the waistband of his shorts. He wanted to go lower, to feel the firmness of that toned ass in his hands. Kajiki rolled his head to one side, and it was all that Honda could think of to lean in and kiss his neck. But he didn't. He tried to hide the hitch in his breath, and kept spreading the lotion. His hands remained on Kajiki's back even after he had finished. He drummed his fingers on the other man's shoulders, and instead of pulling away, Kajiki leaned back.

"Ryou—" Honda started to say, confused by the sudden addition of weight on his chest. It was pleasant. It was beyond pleasant. He worried that if Kajiki moved, he would suddenly find out just how beyond pleasant he found this whole experience. Swim trunks weren't good for hiding in.

"So, Sachiko is not your girlfriend."

"No, she's not." Kajiki twisted a little to look at him oddly over one shoulder.

"So, you don't have a girlfriend right now," the fisherman pressed. Honda swallowed hard and licked his lips. Kajiki's eyes seemed to follow the motion.

"N-no, I don't," Honda answered, and then, as if the particular wording and tone had only just now struck him like a lightning bolt, started. His brown eyes narrowed, and a small, cautious smile tugged at his mouth. Kajiki remained leaned back against him. "And neither do you."

Kajiki's hand came up to rest on the back of Honda's neck, pulling him closer. They kissed, and the action was all hungry mouths and exploring tongues. Honda slid his arms around Kajiki's torso, fingers sliding over his chest and taut stomach. God, he had always wanted to touch the other like this. . . Kajiki pulled back first, prying himself from Honda's grasp just long enough to get turned around. He crawled the length of the other's lean body, straddling the pilot. Honda grinned, drunk on disbelief and lust.

"I, uh, I didn't realize you were—"

"Queer as fuck?" Kajiki supplied the term breathlessly, their bodies pressed together and rocking in time with the waves.

"Yeah," Honda agreed, and kissed him again. He felt more than heard Kajiki moan into his mouth as he squirmed on his lap. He nipped the fisherman's lip and earned a chuckle. "We should do this. If we were ever going to, we should do it right now."

"What?"

"I'm about to deploy for a year; it's not like we won't have time to forget if one of us decides later that we don't want this."

". . .Yeah. Okay," Kajiki nodded slowly, pulling himself off his friend. He helped the other to his feet, and pushed him towards the small cabin. "Grab the first aid kit off the wall when we get inside."

"You keep condoms there?"

"Did you think you were the first person I've ever wanted to have sex with out here? Look around: no one's gonna hear you but the waves."

"That's. . .actually, that's kinda hot."

"You talk too much."

"Have I told you lately that I like it when you boss me around?"

"_Hiroto_."

"Yeah. I'm shutting up now."

* * *

Kajiki didn't hear from Honda after they returned to the docks the following afternoon. It took nearly a year, eight months into the pilot's deployment, for him to get up the nerve to call Sachiko to ask about the address of Katarashii Air Base. The girl seemed confused for a moment, but then, as if struck by an epiphany while he was trying to explain that he wanted to send her cousin a care package, she gasped:

"Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Wha. . .Tell me what?" he felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry. That kind of question never boded well.

"Hiroto. . . He. . ." she struggled for a moment to phrase it, probably looking for a way to say it delicately. There wasn't any way to soften the blow, though. "Hiroto crashed his F-15 into the Baltic Sea after an engine malfunction three months ago. They didn't recover a body, but he's been missing ever since. Didn't you know?"

Of course he didn't know. Kajiki wanted to remind the girl that he was just a friend. Most people didn't even realize that the two of them had known one another, let alone that they had spoken after the end of Battle City; why would anyone have informed him?

_Known_. . . the past tense made him want to vomit. Kajiki sat down at his desk, and hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Honda was gone; taken by the cold waters of a foreign sea. Kajiki felt like he should have been used to losing people this way. He wasn't.


End file.
